


It's Never The Good Kind (Except When It Is)

by Lucy Gillam (cereta)



Category: Tanya Huff - Blood and Smoke series
Genre: M/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereta/pseuds/Lucy%20Gillam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to Mara for the beta, and elynross and Lys for the comments!</p>
    </blockquote>





	It's Never The Good Kind (Except When It Is)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elerrina Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Elerrina+Rose).



> Thanks to Mara for the beta, and elynross and Lys for the comments!

"Now!"

At Jack's shouted cue, Mouse, Amy, and Tina pulled the ropes they'd slung over various rafters, tipping the buckets that hung from them. Gobs of thick, white liquid fell down onto Raymond Dark's "desk," his coffin, and his fake antique sideboard. Or, more precisely, it fell on the nasty pests who were busily devouring the Quaker Instant Maple and Brown Sugar oatmeal Tony had put on said items.

The smell of spoiled milk hit the room at the same instant as the creatures' outraged screams, followed by three loud successive pops as the dairy product served its purpose.

Tony instinctively threw up a shield, so the brownie guts that had splattered his way fell harmlessly to the floor.

"Huh," he said. "Wasn't quite expecting that."

Tina managed to get just enough slime off her face to glare at him. "No kidding."

Amy walked over to the desk, seemingly unconcerned with the...stuff dripping off her skirt. "I can't believe that actually worked."

Tony shrugged. "Well, you know, brownies. Dairy. Rotten milk. Made sense." In his head, he heard Leah yelling at him for winging it like that, but he ignored her. He was getting pretty good at feeling his way around things, applying Arra's knowledge to his own instincts. Although, it probably should have disturbed him just how easy it was for the cast and crew of _Darkest Night_ to accumulate three buckets of spoiled milk (they'd thrown some non-dairy creamer in there to add volume, figuring it couldn't hurt). The stuff from the set alone had filled a bucket and a half.

"Can I trust that this is the end of this particular supernatural invasion, Mr. Foster?" CB had somehow managed to avoid getting splattered. So had Henry, but that was hardly surprising.

Tony started to shrug again, then remember who he was shrugging at. "Probably," he said instead. He very deliberately did not look at Henry, who had (of course) supplied most of their information about brownies, including the fact that while some were, in fact, helpful little domestics, there was a breed that delighted in exactly the opposite, in committing random acts of destruction while a home's occupants were asleep or absent.

It surprised no one that it would be this kind of brownie that would infest the set of _Darkest Night_. It was never the good kind.

"Brownies tend to group in threes," Henry put in. "Something else the popular mythology gets wrong. So it's unlikely there are more about, at least right now."

CB simply nodded. Because of course, if Henry said it, it must be true.

"In that case, I expect filming to resume tomorrow night."

This was directed at the room in general, but it was Peter who sighed and clapped his hands in his best yeah-I'm-the-director fashion. "All right, people, mops and paper towels, this crap won't clean itself up."

Mason, who had stayed for the vanquishing mostly to see the little bastards who'd shredded his favorite jacket fry (or, as it turned out, explode), wrinkled his nose. "I don't suppose it's ever occurred to anyone to move us to a new set. This is, what, the fourth...thing to show up here?"

In fairness, this was something that had occurred to Tony. If the incident with the Shadowlord had sort of infected the place, supernaturally speaking, then the Demon Convergence had very likely made it worse, which meant that stuff like this really was just going to keep happening. On the other hand...

"It probably wouldn't help," Amy said, dumping an armful of paper towel rolls by the desk and grabbing one herself. "It's probably not just the place, anymore. It's the people."

All eyes in the room turned to Tony. Which, frankly, he was _really_ getting tired of.

"Not just him," Amy said, rolling her eyes. "Okay, he probably doesn't _help_ , but it's probably all of us by now. We're sort of radioactive."

"Still," Sorge put in, "as you say, his presence doesn't help matters."

Oh, Tony did _not_ like where this was heading.

"As we've discussed previously," CB said with the exaggerated patience that indicated he was not feeling particularly patient at all, "if these elements are going to continue to make an appearance, we are probably safer with Mr. Foster around than without him."

CB didn't stick around for an answer, but the general "fair enough" was conveyed through nods, shrugs, and turning to the task at hand.

Mason very pointedly looked at his watch. "Well, I do have that early scene tomorrow, and..."

"Forget it," Peter interrupted pitilessly. If there was one good thing to come out of all the supernatural occurrences, it was that Peter seemed less inclined to coddle his star after dealing with ghosts or demons or brownies. "You have to work here tomorrow same as us. Do you really want to work in this smell?"

Mason wrinkled his nose again. "Surely we could hire someone to clean it."

"And tell them what, exactly? That we had an accident involving our extremely realistic special effects?" Peter held up a dustpan, looking pointedly at the small, severed hand in it. "If so, you'd better hope they don't watch the show."

"But..."

CB's voice boomed from the general direction of his office. "Or I could take the cost of cleaning out of your salary."

Mason picked up a mop.

Henry stood watching the activity just long enough to catch Tony's eye with a by-now familiar look of _do you need anything else?_ ("anything else" apparently not including help cleaning). Tony responded with the equally familiar nod of _nope, I'm good_. Henry returned the nod and turned to leave.

In the direction of CB's office.

"It bugs you, doesn't it?"

"Huh?" Tony didn't even realize he'd been staring after Henry until Lee spoke.

"Henry being..." Lee frowned, obviously struggling for a word that meant 'something more than friends, but I really don't want to think about what,' "Hanging around CB," he finished.

For the second lead on a syndicated vampire detective show, Lee was a pretty talented actor. If Tony knew him just a little less well, he might actually buy the offhand, really-I'm-just-curious tone.

As it was, he swallowed his instinctive denial and pondered how best to tell the truth. "It does, but not for the reasons you think. Henry and I were never exclusive, so it doesn't bug me that he's...friendly with someone else." He thought briefly of mentioning Victory, but man, was that more information than he could fit into quick exposition.

Lee nodded for a moment, clearly waiting for Tony to go on. When he didn't, Lee rolled his eyes and asked, "So what is the reason?" The _duh, stupid_ hung in the air unsaid.

Tony again took a moment to consider his answer. The truth was, Henry was getting harder and harder to explain to Lee in ways that made any kind of sense, and lately he was just hoping Lee would be patient long enough for Henry to be convinced that one more person knowing his secret was safe.

"Henry did a lot for me," he finally said, "and for a long time, he was my whole life. It's been really hard to start having a life that isn't about him, and having him always in that life only makes it harder."

Lee nodded again. "Okay. I may need a minute to unravel that sentence. But okay."

"Let me know it if makes sense to you, 'cause I'm not sure it does to me," Tony admitted.

Lee shrugged. "He's obviously still important to you, what with the weekly trips to program his VCR and all." Again, Tony almost bought the lack of concern.

He grinned and tapped Lee's foot with his own, a gesture that over the last few weeks had come to be code for "if we weren't on the job, you'd so be on the nearest flat surface right now."

"Yeah, I'm thinking I need to talk him into a Tivo."

Lee laughed. "You know he'll just need you to program that."

"True." Tony looked at his watch. "You know, we don't have to be back on set for ten more hours. If we hurry here..."

"Say no more." Lee grabbed a bucket and started to head to the coffin, then turned back. "You know, my place is closer."

Tony blinked. In the three weeks since Lee's return, they hadn't once been to his apartment. It wasn't really anything intentional (except that it totally was). They hadn't talked about it (because they both knew why). It didn't bother Tony (much). Judging from Lee's this-is-no-big-deal-I'm-just-saying expression, he'd noticed this, too.

All the conversations about Lee's career that he'd blown off with a kind of, "Really, it's not a big deal," started running through Tony's mind, and he finally came back to what he'd said about starting the relationship in the first place: it had to be Lee's move. Well, it looked like he was making it.

"Okay."

Lee nodded, and turned to the unenviable task of cleaning spoiled milk off a coffin. Hey, at least they'd thought to close it.

It took everyone's combined forces an hour to get the set in some kind of decent order. The smell was still lingering, but what time didn't take care of, a few air fresheners probably would. CB had never returned (neither had Henry, something Tony was very deliberately not thinking about), so Peter dismissed everyone with a reminder of early calls.

"Take my car?" Lee asked, shrugging into his jacket.

"I have to be here earlier than you," Tony pointed out.

"Not by much. And I hate to break this to you, but your attempts to get ready quietly? Not real successful."

Tony managed not to blush, but it was a near thing.

After stopping at his car to grab the overnight bag he'd taken to keeping in the trunk (not, unfortunately, for romantic reasons, but because that encounter with the water sprite two months ago had taught Tony the importance of always having a change of clothes nearby), Tony joined Lee in his car. Thankfully, he'd stopped riding the motorcycle to work. It was almost a pleasure to ride with someone who wasn't determined to break all existing speed records; or, rather, it would have been if Tony had been able to focus on anything but the way Lee shifted gears. Seriously, who knew that was a turn-on?

Which was what he later said to explain why he grabbed Lee as soon as they got out of the car and made a serious effort to swallow his face. Not that Lee protested at the time. In fact, he was participating so enthusiastically that he didn't even register the camera flash until Tony had jumped back several feet.

The photographer gave a cheerful wave as she walked away. Tony vaguely considered summoning the camera, but he was pretty sure that would only compound their problems.

" _Shit_."

~~~

"Hey, someone finally found your name!"

Tony looked over Amy's shoulder at the computer screen. Sure enough, there was his name, in bold letters, underneath the by-now familiar picture. He skimmed the text of the blog (" _Darkest Night_ hunk", check; "ladies' man," check; "closet," check) before finding the longer, " _Darkest Night_ Assistant Director Tony Foster."

"Hey, they promoted you!" Lee said as he leaned over Amy's other shoulder. He must have heard Tony drawing in a breath to speak, because he added, "If you say 'I'm sorry,' I'm going to hit you. And not in a fun way."

"Hey!" Amy said. "No domestic violence on set. No fun hitting, either." The _unless I can watch_ was obvious enough for Tony to glare at her.

Tony's headset crackled. "Any chance you're going to join us today?" Peter's voice came over.

"Right, on my way!"

"And bring Lee with you." If the assumption that he'd know where Lee was at any given second didn't predate their relationship by about six months, Tony would be annoyed by it, but as it was, he didn't see much point in protesting.

The set they used as a kind of floating "wealthy victim/suspect's living room" was almost sufficiently transformed from last week's episode that the audience probably wouldn't recognize it (it was really amazing what could be accomplished with spray paint, some throw covers, and some creative movement of furniture). Tony had reviewed the art work earlier to make sure none of it matched, but Peter put him to work double-checking.

"Last time we let a vase slip through, it was all over six message boards an hour after we aired," he said.

Mason, who'd been getting his makeup touched up by a grumbling Everett, walked over to Lee, wearing the expression Raymond Dark usually wore when James Taylor Grant was having romantic problems. Lee very noticeably did not roll his eyes. Tony rolled his own for him, safely out of Mason's field of vision.

"Any word on the film?" Mason asked, managing to convey concern as well as the lead on a straight-to-syndication show would be expected to.

"As far as I know, post is coming along on schedule," Lee said.

"There won't be any, shall we say, creative editing where your part is concerned, will there?"

This time, Lee did very slightly roll his eyes, although in fairness, it was more at Tony than at Mason. Tony had asked the same question last week, at which point Lee had pointed out that a movie called _Amazons in Space_ (and the third sequel, at that) wasn't likely to be hurt all _that_ much by one of the actors turning out to be queer.

"Not that I know of," he said. "And anyway, I'm not sure they could really edit me out without losing the main plot."

"Ah. Good." It was hard to tell if Mason was more annoyed that Lee apparently had a more substantial part in the movie than he'd thought, or that he wasn't going to have an opportunity to defend his co-star against persecution. It was obvious to everyone on the set that Mason had been just _dying_ to speak out publicly. It was all well and good that the cast and crew of _Darkest Night_ knew that he entirely supported his co-star's right to follow his heart, but he'd clearly expected at least one reporter to call him, but here it was, a week later, and no calls. Rumor was that his agent had frantically talked him out of commenting on some blogs over the weekend.

"Well," Mason added, "just so you know I'm there for you."

"Much appreciated," Lee replied, managing to keep a straight face.

Which was more than Amy was doing as she walked onto the set carrying an enormous flower arrangement. The expression of utter glee on her face made Tony's blood run cold. The fact that Zev was following her, with a slightly more subdued look of amusement, didn't help matters.

Peter was apparently too stunned to ask what the hell she was doing bringing flowers onto the set, and Mason took advantage to say, "Oh, really, very kind of you, but you could have left them in my dressing room." He reached for the card even as Amy turned toward Lee.

Lee raised an eyebrow (it still surprised Tony when he did that). "For me?" It's not that he never got flowers from fans. It was very rare, and everyone, Lee included, usually kept it pretty discreet so as not to send Mason into a snit, but these were a bit more than usual.

"You and Tony," Amy said, completely failing to keep the snickering out of her voice (assuming she was even trying, and Tony kind of doubted it).

Lee's eyebrow went up even further, and he took the card out of its envelope. "Lee and Tony," he read, "best of luck from your fans in," he squinted to read the small print, "Cleveland, Ohio." He frowned. "I'm not sure I knew I had fans in Cleveland."

Almost as one, the eyes on the set turned to Mason. And really, given the interesting shade of purple he was turning, he was worth the look. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it. Opened. Shut. Opened yet again, and without a word, he turned and stormed toward his dressing room.

Peter sighed. "Well, that's shooting screwed up for the night." He turned to Tony. "No chance what's-her-name, Nancy, is still hanging around?"

Tony shook his head. This week's required beautiful woman in jeopardy/evil temptress had gone home, and wasn't expected back until after ten the next night.

Peter sighed again, walked over to Tony, and smacked the back of his head.

"Hey! What'd I do?"

Peter ignored him. "That's a wrap, people! See everyone tomorrow." He turned back to Tony. "And I'd better have a lead actor ready to act by then."

Tony didn't even bother asking how he was supposed to accomplish this. Not that Peter stuck around to hear.

"Seriously," he asked as Zev approached him. "How is this my fault?"

"Well, it's not like they're going to blame Lee," Zev answered in an infuriatingly reasonable tone. "Everyone likes him too much."

Tony couldn't decide which of the insulting aspects of that to address first, so he just glared at Zev and walked over to Lee, who was obviously trying to figure out what to do with the flowers. He didn't even get a chance to open his mouth before Lee said, "Once again, if you say 'I'm sorry,' I will dump this vase on your head."

"I know, I know. I just wish..." He sighed. He wasn't even sure what it was he wished.

Amy responded by punching his shoulder. "Oh, lighten up. You got the man of your dreams, it's actually almost helping his career, and our ratings were even up this week. There is no bad here."

Tony scowled. It was easy for her to say. She didn't have Henry reminding her that Lee's career wasn't exactly the only thing he had to worry about. The possibility that some reporter (or more likely, fan) might snap a picture when he was throwing a magical Powershot at some demon/spirit/rogue Shadowlord had occurred to him more than once, and frankly, given that the Weird Shit showed no sign of slowing down, it was probably a question of "when and how" rather than "if."

And there were other things.

He jerked his head at Lee, and mercifully, Zev and Amy took the hint, leaving in the opposite direction.

Lee found a convenient surface to put the flowers down on. Tony made a mental note to make sure they were gone before shooting began the next night. The last thing he needed was post on his case about a continuity error.

"Look," he said, "most of my stuff was juvie, and so it's sealed, but some of it was after I turned 18." Lee would know what he was talking about. He'd laid it out, all of it, the running away, the years on the street, even the tricks, before Lee had left for Australia. He'd figured Lee had a right to know what he was getting into. He'd thought about calling Mike Celluci to see if his records could maybe disappear, but the truth was... "And anyway, what's more likely is that someone who knew me then will see my picture and remember me."

Lee was as unfazed now as he'd been when Tony had first told him. "I'm not worried."

"Yeah, but..."

"Really, if you think about it, I should be apologizing to you," Lee said reasonably.

"Huh?"

"Well, it's because of me that you're worried your past might get dragged out into the public, or that your whole," he made a vague hand gesture that Tony thought might have been meant to look magical, "wizard thing will get found out. If you were still dating, say, Zev, you wouldn't have to worry about that."

"Huh," Tony said again, turning that over in his mind. "So, what you're saying here, is, _you_ should be making this up to _me_."

Lee grinned. "Exactly. And how would you like me to do that?"

Ah, geez, if he was going to give a guy lines like that, there was really nowhere to go but the cliché. "I could think of a few..."

"Where the _hell_ is my mineral water?"

Mason's voice arced across the soundstage, going right through Tony's skull. He winced, and turned to Lee.

"Actually, I don't suppose there's any way you can deal with Mason?"

Lee laughed. "Forget it. Even I don't love you _that_ much," he said, and headed to his own dressing room. He was gone for over a minute before Tony realized what he'd said.

The goofy grin he wore the rest the night _really_ didn't help placate Mason, but it was totally worth it.

 

 

 


End file.
